Diary of a Network Geek

Where are all the women like Sandahl Bergman?
So, Thursday night, after I got home from therapy, I’m watching Conan the Barbarian on cable with my dog and there’s that scene where they bring Conan, played by the Governator, back from the dead. To refresh your memory, Conan has died after being crucified on the Tree of Woe and his paramour has brought the body to a wizard to be ressurected. The spirits that the wizard summons try to steal the body instead of restore it, as per the standard sorcerous contract, and Valeria, played by Sandahl Bergman, throws her body on top of his to hold him down and force the spirits to bring him back from the dead. Later, when the bum lets her die, she comes back as a spirit to dazzle and confuse Conan’s enemies. Now, that is what I call devotion!
I mean, c’mon, can you beat that? A woman that first throws herself inbetween you and dead spirits and then comes back from the grave, even when you cremate her instead of trying to bring her back, just to save your bacon. Who would do that for any guy today? For that matter, what guy today would do that kind of thing for his woman? After all, they weren’t married. They didn’t have kids. She was just his partner in crime, literally. Now, as someone pointed out in comments on another blog, my experience with women lately hasn’t been all that wonderful, so, it is possible that cynicism fairy has sprinkled me with a little extra magic dust today, still… Still, even though I have a hard time imagining this, I long for it.
I long for my own personal Sandahl Bergman. The one who would go through Hell for me out of sheer passion. The one who’d put me before herself. Not that I’d let her, just that I’d like it if she really felt that strongly about me and wasn’t motivated by greed or need or anything but pure love and desire. I don’t know, maybe I’m an optimist. Or a romantic. Or, maybe, just a fool, but one day, I’d love to find my Pearl of Great Price for whom I’d sacrifice everything else. And wouldn’t it be nice if she felt the same way about me…

Oh, and now it smells like the Chicken Masala is done! All week I’ve been making a Freudian Typo and calling it Chicken Marsala, but I’ve been making Chicken Biryani Masala. It’s a whole different idiom!

Do they really help?
Tin-foil hats, I mean. I’ve had some small experience dealing with nuts who are convinced everyone is plotting against them, so questions like this are very important to me. In fact, I’ve often wondered if wearing one would have improved that poor soul’s disposition and mental health. Probably not, but one can dream. And, I have to admit, it usually seems that the members of the Tin-Foil Hat Brigade actually hear more voices than the average schizophrenic. Well, there might just be a reason for that, according to this paper by an MIT researcher.
He found that tin-foil hats actually seem to improve reception of certain frequencies that just happen to be reserved for use by the Federal Government. Is it a vast, sweeping plot? Just an amazing coincidence? Well, if you ask a member of the TFHB, they’ll say it’s a conspiracy. Of course, most paranoids will also be convinced that any evidence contrary to their delusion is just proof that the person offering such “proof” is part of said plot.
My advice? Take off the shiny hat and try eating some protein for a change. The cult programming will wear off eventually.

Update: After writing this and posting it, I read my e-mail and saw that today is the anniversary of the Jonestown mass suicide. This topic suddenly became sadly appropriate.

Advice from your Uncle Jim:
"The fact that no one understands you doesn't make you an artist."